


Play the Part

by loudspeakr



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Body Swap, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Masturbation, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:56:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9650609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loudspeakr/pseuds/loudspeakr
Summary: "What would you do if youswapped bodieswith your best friend?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Someone had to do it. I just grew impatient waiting.
> 
> Inspired by [GMM 1070.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tn2nsJAfDfQ&t=730s)

When Rhett wakes up one morning alone in his best friend’s bed, he isn’t at all surprised.

After all, his dreams have been taking a turn recently, delving into weird and wonderful places that he’d never be able to conjure up in consciousness. The book he bought on lucid dreaming is to blame, he supposes, with his ability to manipulate his own dreamscape improving more and more with each subsequent chapter. And with his increasing ability, little of his dreams nowadays has surprised him, now that he was beginning to take control of his slumbering subconscious.

Finding himself in Link’s bed, however, is an unexpected development. It figures, though, considering the feelings Rhett secretly harbours towards his lifelong friend, a love he keeps just out of reach, a constant thrumming under his skin.

This buried love of his ebbs and flows, and lately it’s been doing more of the latter. So, it makes sense that his mind should send him here of all places, nestled in crisp white sheets that Rhett has thought about more times than he’d care to admit. In fact, it surprises him now that he’s looking around, the sheer amount of detail with which he remembers the particulars of Link’s bedroom.

Though neat – the undoubtable doing of Christy Neal – the space is most certainly lived-in: a woven, deep grey throw tossed across the foot of the bed, a half-drunk glass of water left on the bedside table, a small pile of worn clothing left strewn on the floor to his side. The bedsheets themselves are clean, smelling sweetly of fresh laundry with a hint of the fruity shampoo Link uses.

Rhett presses his nose into the pillow beneath his head, inhaling deeply. It makes him feel a little guilty, taking advantage like this, but he finds solace in the fact that he’s safe in the comfort of his own fantasy world. So he takes in the scent again, long and unhurried. Then something suddenly occurs to him.

Beyond the confines of this bed, the world goes fuzzy. He looks to the chest of drawers across the way to find edges that should be well-defined instead blending one shade into another. The photos that hang on the wall above it – photos he’s seen many times before – are all a blur, the frames as well as their subjects. He concentrates, trying to mould the abstract shapes into discernible figures, but it’s no use. The distorted images continue to stare blankly back at him.

Confused, Rhett sits up, and another thing becomes apparent. There’s a lack of an ache, the twinge in his spine that has greeted him every morning for as long as he can remember notably absent. He twists his torso, this way and that, and he’s answered with nothing. In fact, he feels limber and well-rested. It’s exactly how one would feel after a night’s worth of undisturbed sleep.

It’s when he presses a palm to his chest that his theory is given its first breath of possibility. There’s hair, coarser and denser than he’s used to. He looks down to a narrower torso, less give than usual when he pushes on his abdomen. He follows the length of his body downwards, taking note of the boxer briefs he has never seen before, and shoves the covers back when he gets to his legs. There’s darker body hair there, too. His knees, his shins, even his feet are longer and hairier. Upon closer inspection, his hands are smoother, softer when he slides them across one another. And what troubles him – above all else – is the fact that everything he sees is not unfamiliar to him.

With realisation dawning, Rhett finally touches a hand to his jaw. His beard is gone, instead a rough stubble under his fingertips.

He’s in Link’s body.

Rhett has never had a dream like this before. He’s always been himself, in his own body, the world _around_ him reshaping itself to entertain and enthral him in his sleep. And sure, he’s flown to great heights, he’s dived to watery depths for impossible lengths of time, he’s explored uninhabitable environments within the bounds of his mind. But this… this is something new entirely.

Rhett whips his – _Link’s_ – head around to settle on the bedside table and finds a familiar pair of glasses at the base of the lamp that sits there. He slides them on then immediately off, the brief moment of clarity all but confirming his discovery.

Another deep breath does little to settle the churning in his stomach, as wicked thoughts begin to circle in his head, fighting for acknowledgement.

It’s been more than thirty years, and Rhett has caught only glimpses of the body he lives in now. Glimpses that have given way to full-blown fantasies, to dark moments locked in bathroom stalls and hidden behind walls. In such moments, Rhett loses himself to the name he lets loose in pants and moans, a frantic hand dipped below his waistband as he brings himself to the edge of oblivion before cruelly tearing himself away again. Never before has he let himself topple over the edge, not for thirty long years. Thirty years, and he’s been able to resist temptation in every form, be it self-imposed or that from another.

Thirty years… until today.

Giving in, Rhett starts off slow and lays back against the sheets, pulling the covers over himself. He closes his eyes as he drags his fingertips against his – Link’s – abdomen. They track pathways across the plane of lean muscle, feeling them tense under his touch, before he finds a nipple. He circles the sensitive bud and pinches, and his mouth falls open at the new sensation. This had never felt this good before, in his regular body. The nub stiffens between his fingers, tingling under his attention, so Rhett goes to the other and does the same there, pushing himself until he can no longer.

Moving on, Rhett reaches for Link’s lips and traces their plump outline, before dragging his teeth across the bottom one. They’re impossibly smooth, tasting vaguely like the self-titled lip balm his friend so proudly slicks to his lips. Pressing a kiss to his fingers acts as a test of his resolve, and it feels as if his chest is about to implode under the weight of his newfound revelation.

Rhett has always wondered after Link’s kisses, finding himself already eyeing his friend’s talented mouth whenever the opportunity arose. He always assumed being kissed by those lips would be something to behold, a life-altering, fantastical experience. Now he knows.

His other palm busies itself by reaching downwards in a move Rhett knows all too well. He again finds the fabric of Link’s boxer briefs and pulls them aside, feeling the burgeoning length between his legs spring free. The head of it brushes lightly against the covers, and Rhett gasps. He’s so far gone already – and everything about this is so very wrong – so selfishly he wraps a loose fist around himself and squeezes. A moan slips out, seeming to fill the room around him, but he’s too far gone, _too far gone_ , and just like that, the covers somehow end up on the floor.

Link – at least this iteration of him – is every bit as impressive as Rhett has always imagined him to be. His length is astounding when Rhett considers the countless looks he’s snuck in their shared changeroom. He underestimated things, it seems, because the thickness of it… There needs to be an addendum to their _length versus breadth_ ruling.

With the body of his best friend laid out for Rhett to worship, there’s just no other way to say it: Link is glorious.

The glint of a string of precome trailing down the side catches Rhett’s eye, and his mouth waters. He takes a swipe of it with his finger before putting it to his tongue. It’s oddly sweet, the bitter tang of it lost in the delusion of Rhett’s imagination. He perseveres, humming low when he finds a vein, thick and jutting, running along Link’s rigid length. He covers it with the palm of his hand and grips before tugging, hard and swiftly, the resulting jolt just about stunning him into submission.

Rhett takes his time exploring, touching places he wishes he could see as well, finding hidden spots that send shots of pleasure rippling through his system. He reaches further down until he’s cupping the warm sack underneath. Compared to the rest of this body, the skin there is oddly smooth, free of hair. He runs his thumb over it, fighting back the shiver it elicits.

This is his newest obsession, he decides then and there, and obsessed he most certainly is. He’s barely broken out in a sweat, and already Rhett feels so alive. Link’s body is far more responsive than his. It tickles, it shivers, it can’t help but let itself be heard when provoked. It’s an odd brand of egotism but the sounds Link’s body lets out only serve to spur Rhett and his desire on.

Breath hitching, Rhett lets go of his last strand of self-control. Finding Link’s cock again, his hand begins to work overtime as he clings to every detail this body gifts him, committing each little thing to memory. A twist of his wrist at the end of each jerk is met with a light whimper, a sound Rhett has heard before but never in this context. The rumbling in his chest is entirely new, however, too low to be heard from anywhere else but in this body. With a pang of regret, it occurs to him: he’ll probably never experience this again.

Link’s throat whines at the thought, and Rhett shuts his eyes again to see this body writhing beneath his own, making the love of his whole life unravel under his own broad palms. He works the details he’s learned here into the fantasy as it plays out in his head, weaving them in seamlessly until it’s Link’s tongue dancing with his own, Link’s hands returning his touches in his mind’s eye.

And in a sick, twisted way – Rhett realises – it _is_ Link’s hands doing the work. Long fingers and a firm, insistent grasp on Link’s hardness has it twitching in anticipation, as Rhett teeters dangerously on the brink of insanity. He would die for Link – he’s uttered the admission in the past – but he would lose himself entirely if it meant knowing Link as intimately as he does now. His thighs clench, his toes curl, and a guttural wail tears unbidden from his chest, made all the stranger by the desperate, wanton tenor his best friend’s voice takes on as it yells its own name.

With a final gasp, Rhett spills over Link’s hand, silent tears tracking down his cheeks at the intensity that overwhelms him briefly. His arm collapses to the side, sore and exhausted, with Link’s shoulder aching its protest. The remnants of his lust is cooling on his legs and his torso as Rhett struggles to catch his breath. Moments pass, Link’s heartbeat slows, and for some reason, Rhett remains here in his dream world.

So he waits for the ending to come, for his eyes to open to his own bedroom and his own reality. He’s staring, mesmerised by the blush that has spread across Link’s chest, when he hears the muted vibration of a phone ringing. He spots it, Link’s phone on the table beside his head with its screen alight. Rhett reaches for it, and it strikes him as more than odd that he can read his own name where it appears, having learned long ago that dreams do not allow for literacy. But before he can ponder this, and out of sheer curiosity, Rhett answers.

The screen changes as expected, and suddenly his own face is staring back at him.

In the corner of the screen, Rhett can see his brow furrow – _Link’s_ brow furrow – as he takes in the sight of himself. There’s a sheen of sweat across his own forehead, hair wild and matted, cheeks reddened under the brush of his beard, bare shoulders framing his view. He recognises the background as the headboard of his own bed.

Rhett chuckles: this may as well be a mirror. He’s only seen himself like this a handful of times, never really settling on his own reflection after spending some time left to his own dark thoughts. But he’s sure he knows himself well enough to see that he’s just –

“Rhett?” he watches himself say, a touch out of breath. “Is that you?”

The penny drops, as Rhett recognises the look of confusion he has known his entire life, watching it swim in his own green eyes.

“…Link?”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always, endlessly appreciated <3


End file.
